


Five Christmases

by ValBirch



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Sequel (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValBirch/pseuds/ValBirch
Summary: Some of Eleven's most memorable Christmas moments in a series of connected one-shots.A companion piece, set in the same canon as my previous collection, Holidays.





	1. Deck the Halls

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, so this is a sort of a sequel/companion piece to Holidays, a collection of one-shots I wrapped up last month. It occurred to me that, despite the title of that collection, I never wrote a Christmas story. Maybe I was unconsciously preparing for this the whole time. 
> 
> Anyways, you don't necessarily _have to_ read Holidays to understand this, but I recommend it. This first instalment is set between Chapters 1  & 2\. It's Eleven's first Christmas. 
> 
> Please enjoy! It feels so great to be writing in this universe again.
> 
> Big shout out to Iris Violetta, to whom I dedicate this chapter. She inspired and encouraged me to get this out into the world <3

_December 1984_

A week before Christmas, a light snow dusts the already frosted front lawns and rooftops of Hawkins overnight, giving everything a whimsical appearance, including the icicles that hang preciously from the naked branches of the massive elm trees that line the town’s Main Street. In downtown Hawkins, at the center of the shopping plaza parking lot, stands an oversized Christmas tree, decorated with tinsel and the same shimmering coloured lights that are decked out on just about every house in town. The Wheeler house, especially, is a dazzling display of lights and décor, replete with an oddly proportioned snowman on the front lawn. The snowman, with his carrot nose and button eyes, wears a blue and green striped scarf and pink wool mittens—both pieces that Karen Wheeler recognizes as she looks out the garland-lined window on that particular Saturday morning, vaguely wondering when she should insist that her son and El, the newest child to take up residence under her roof, reclaim their articles of winter clothing. While Karen contemplates this over a cappuccino, downstairs the two young teenagers in question sit huddled together, intently focused on a task of utmost importance. 

“Right, now just put your finger right there.” 

“Like this?”

“Perfect. And hold it really still.” 

Eyes narrowed and tongue poking out ever so slightly from between chapped lips, Mike Wheeler carefully and very slowly wraps a velvety blue ribbon around a large rectangular package, pulling the knot tight until it comes down to rest on the tip of Eleven’s forefinger, which she keeps deliberately pressed to the Star Wars wrapping paper they had picked out at the store earlier that week. Mimicking the motions of tying his shoe laces, Mike creates two “rabbit ears” and loops them together to form a (somewhat lopsided) bow. 

“There.” Satisfied, Mike leans back to admire his handiwork and motions to Eleven that she can relax her hand. “Will is going to love this, El! It was such a good idea.” 

“Thank you.” Eleven blushes slightly as she draws her finger away from the package, surveying the final product of her and Mike’s first ever attempt to wrap a Christmas present. Mike had wanted to ask his mother to do it, as she always does, but Eleven had insisted that she wanted to learn how to do such a thing herself and Mike, ever desiring to make her happy, had obliged without much convincing necessary. 

The thought that, admittedly, Karen is much better at this crosses Eleven’s minds—the presents that Karen wraps do not have odd bunched up corners or crooked pieces of tape, but El remains nonetheless proud of the efforts she and Mike put towards this. And she knows, as with people and books, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. 

And on the inside of this haphazard package is a brand new Lego set for Will, the _Intergalactic Command Base_. It's the present she had suggested they buy for the Secret Santa gift exchange that her friends would be doing later that week. Since her return a few months ago, Eleven had grown quite close to Will; closer than anyone knew—even Mike, or Will for that matter. She had, since coming back from the In-Between, been able to hear Will’s voice in her head, even when his lips weren’t moving, but only when she really tried. It troubled her slightly and she wasn’t entirely sure if she should tell someone—not even Mike, to whom she told everything, whether important or not. For the time being, Eleven had decided to keep her new talent a secret. Friends don’t lie, but she was fairly certain that it didn’t count as lying if one didn’t say anything at all. 

Because of her sisterly fondness for Will, Eleven had, admittedly, cheated ever so slightly when it came time to draw names out of Dustin’s baseball cap to determine who would be assigned to who for Secret Santa—a game that was new to her, but which she was determined to excel at. She had made sure that Mike, who the boys had decided would be partnered with her as a gift-giver and receiver that year, had drawn Will’s name because she knew she would be able to extract the perfect gift, his one true Christmas desire, from his mind. And, having successfully done so, there she and Mike were, with a freshly wrapped Lego set that she could hardly wait to place in Will's hands. 

Secret Santa, however, was not the only new thing Eleven had been taught that holiday season. She had learned all about several Christmas traditions—in the past weeks she had tried eggnog (it was strangely delicious), decorated gingerbread cookies (she drew little pink dresses on all her figures), and been informed about Santa Claus (she was a little troubled by the notion of a large man coming down the chimney, but Dustin assured her that it was only a story for children and made her swear to pretend for Holly, to which she had of course agreed). 

\--- 

That afternoon, the boys gather at the Wheeler house, in the basement as usual, their coats piled up by the bottom of the stairs. Since Mike is in the middle of planning a new campaign, they play Monopoly instead—even though everyone already knows that Lucas will win and that Dustin will, at some point, call him ruthless. And, because El is at the grocery store with Nancy, picking up all the things Mrs. Wheeler needs for her famous Christmas feast, the boys are free to be as competitive as they like—they're always sure to tone down the name-calling and friendly cussing when their female friend is around. 

After their game, which as predicated, ends with Lucas triumphantly dancing around the table, Mike takes the stairs up two at a time to ask his mother to prepare a snack. Once he's out of sight, the basement door closed behind him, Dustin and Lucas gather together on the sofa, chatting about something that Will, going over to his backpack and pulling out his art supplies, can't quite hear. 

“Well,” Dustin sighs, pulling a crumpled sheet of paper from his back pocket and glancing over it, “I think El knows everything she needs to know about Christmas. Eggnog, gingerbread cookies, wrapping presents, Christmas carols...”

“Not everything,” Lucas says with a sly grin, “Was mistletoe on your list of traditions?”

“Oh my God!” Dustin smacks a hand to his head, “How am I so stupid? Good save, Lucas.”

“Guys,” Will pipes up, glancing away from the handmade Christmas cards he’s meticulously folding, “Don’t be jerks.”

“We’re not being jerks,” Dustin insists, attempting to look innocent, “We are helping young love blossom into something beautiful.”

“Don’t be gross either.” Will throws a crayon—the orange one for which he currently has no use—at Dustin and it gets caught in his hair, longer and messier than it was the previous year at this time. Dustin untangles the crayon and proceeds to scrawl a reminder to himself at the bottom of his list. 

Just then, the basement door creaks open and the three boys fall into a heavy forced silence. Dustin shoves the crayon into the pocket of his jeans, a Chesire grin still plastered on his face, matching the expression Lucas wears. Mike pads down the stairs with a large plate of crackers and cheese, courtesy of his mother, and immediately notices the strange quiet. He knows his friends well enough to know that they’re up to no good. 

“What are you guys talking about?” he asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Lucas says—too quickly. Mike’s eyes narrow as he sets the plate down on the table where they've just cleared away the Monopoly board. “Just the homework,” Lucas continues, “For Miss. Kennedy’s class.” Mike doesn’t believe that for a second—they’re on Christmas holiday and no one, not even nerds like them, starts to think about the homework until after New Year’s. Mike turns to Will with an emphatic look while Dustin sidles over to the table and begins to press cubes of cheddar cheese in between crackers, popping the makeshift sandwiches into his mouth with glee. From over Mike’s shoulder, Lucas fixes Will with a wide-eyed look, silently begging for secrecy. 

“Will?” Mike looks him right in the eye, aware that Will hasn’t ever lied to him and determined to use this to his advantage. Will flushes, a deep red colour to match the Santa on his Christmas cards.

“Christmas traditions?” Will answers meekly, trying to appease Mike while also not ratting on Dustin and Lucas. Mike sighs and, in one swift motion, snatches the list from Dustin’s distracted hands. His eyes quickly scan the page and finally reach the bottom where Dustin has messily scrawled Mistletoe. Mike’s cheeks quickly grow as red as Will’s. 

“Don’t you dare,” Mike warns, feeling his ears grow warm.

“Aw, come on Mike!” Dustin urges, “You two are so clearly ga-ga over each other.”

“Just leave it,” Mike insists. He makes a mental note to be more subtle when holding hands with Eleven under the D&D table and to definitely stop himself from making googly eyes at her whenever she comes down the stairs when the boys are over. 

\--- 

On Christmas morning, Mike wakes early—if for no other reason than Holly has jumped onto his legs, placing her full weight there, and refuses to move.

“Mikey!” she leans over him until he can feel her hair tickling his nose, “Mikey! Wake up! Santa was here and he even left presents for El!” 

_El. Her first Christmas._

Mike’s up and out of bed so quickly that Holly loses her balance and tumbles to the floor. She’d probably cry—if it weren’t Christmas. Excited by her brother's sudden enthusiasm, Holly gathers herself up and skips down the hallway after him, the bells tied to her ballet slippers jingling with every movement. 

The scene in the living room is magical. As Mike, clad in warm blue flannel pyjamas, wipes the remnants of sleep from his eyes, he begins to take in the mountain of brightly wrapped presents, the tree lit up red and gold in the early morning darkness, and—best of all—El. She's sitting on the sofa in reindeer patterned pyjamas, a steaming cup of cocoa brimming with marshmallows grasped in her hands. Beside her, Karen sits in her red housecoat with a mug of tea. They're chatting quietly, but both look up at Mike as he enters the room.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Karen grins at her son and resists the urge to beckon him over to smooth out his messy hair. sticking up at odd angles. “There’s cocoa on the stove for you. And El made some Eggos.” Mike mumbles his thanks through a stifled yawn and drags his feet towards the kitchen. 

“I’m going to wake Daddy up! I want to open presents!” he hears Holly announce to the living room, followed by the jingling of her shoes climbing up the stairs once more. Mike stuffs an Eggo (or two or three) quickly into his mouth and pours some cocoa into a Christmas mug before returning to the living room. 

“Merry Christmas,” Mike says with a smile as he settles in next to El on the sofa. She turns and smiles at him and, for a moment, Mike feels as though the best Christmas present in the world is having her here with them.


	2. Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who read the last chapter and a special thanks to all those who took the time to like and/or comment! 
> 
> This chapter is set just after Chapter 7 of _Holidays_ , following El's first sleepover with her new best friend Lucy. Enjoy!

_December 1985_

On the final day of classes leading up to Christmas break, Hawkins High is abuzz with excited and impatient teenagers, eager to be free of school for three weeks. Amidst the flow of bodies and hum of voices in the hallway between first and second period, a petite girl with doe eyes quickly leans forward to hug a rapidly growing raven-haired boy. She, lithe and graceful, balances on the tips of her boot-clad toes and he, with flushed freckled cheeks, awkwardly balances a textbook so that its hard edges do not interfere with her soft hug. 

Breaking apart, her fingers linger on his shoulder for a moment longer before they’re interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing loudly. Mike and El glance over at Lucas, who fixes them with a bored, slightly annoyed stare, eyebrows arching into his forehead. Mike smiles apologetically and squeezes El’s hand once more before padding off to Geography behind Lucas while El ducks into her English classroom. She bustles to her seat and makes quick work of taking her worn copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ as well as a lined notebook out of her schoolbag, setting them down on the desk in front of her. El smooths her now shoulder-length brown hair down around her ears and shifts in her seat, catching sight of the empty desk on her right and frowning. Lucy, her newest best friend, isn’t where she’s supposed to be. El’s eyebrows furrow together as she sinks back into her chair, wondering where Lucy could be—usually, she’s early for English class. 

“Hey El?” Dustin leans over from his spot in the desk behind her and gently taps her shoulder, “Do you know where Lucy is?” El turns in her seat to face him and shakes her head. 

“She might be sick,” Will suggests from El’s other side, “She looked pale yesterday.” Eleven considers this for a moment, glad for Will’s keen observational skills. It’s what makes him such a good artist, she thinks. He always notices little details and Lucy _had_ looked pale yesterday, with pronounced dark circles under her eyes. 

“She’s always p…” Dustin begins, but hurriedly cuts himself off, his hand flying to his mouth as though he wishes to jam the words back between his lips. He doesn’t want to be teased for noticing the tone of Lucy’s skin. 

“She was sneezing a lot too,” Will continues, mercifully overlooking Dustin’s slip-up for the moment, caching it somewhere in the back of his mind for later use. 

“Sick,” El frowns, not noticing Dustin’s slightly flustered face, “I want to help.” 

“You could always bring her homework after school,” Dustin suggests, shrugging as nonchalantly as he can manage just as their teacher, Mrs. Mulligan, walks in the door wearing a Santa hat, her arms laden with containers of Christmas cookies and personalized cards for each student. 

“Good idea,” El replies with a brief nod, turning back to face the front of the room. Dustin, who had been hoping that El would ask him to come along to Lucy’s, is disappointed when she doesn’t do so. _But,_ he thinks, _at least we’re going sledding…eventually._ For the umpteenth time since that evening almost two weeks ago, when Lucy had called him up on a dare from El and asked him to go on a date, Dustin’s gaze falls out the window to the patches of brown grass on the football field and he wills it to snow like it’s never snowed before. 

\---

“I’ll wait here, El,” Karen smiles, shifting the car into park at the end of Lucy’s driveway and turning up the radio two notches, just as the opening notes of Spandau Ballet’s _True_ come over the airwaves. “Tell Lucy I say hello.” 

“Be right back,” El says as she slips out of the car, gently closing the door behind her. Immediately, the icy December wind stings her eyes and cheeks and El sinks her chin further into the protection of her homemade pink scarf. She hurriedly strides up the bumpy asphalt of the driveway, taking in the details of her surroundings. Lucy’s house is small and run-down. The grey paint on the garage door is peeling and the once bright colours of the siding are faded. There are missing shingles on the roof and the window at the front of the house is framed by limp white curtains, hanging open to reveal a small, sparsely decorated Christmas tree. This is the first time El has seen Lucy’s house—usually they hang out at the Wheeler’s, or wherever else the boys decide to go. 

With a gloved finger, El rings on Lucy’s front doorbell and, after a moment, the door opens a crack, soft pale light spilling out onto the porch, which is already bathed in darkness at six p.m. El recognizes her friend’s narrow face and green eyes peeking out from the other side of the door and she smiles a greeting. 

“El?” Lucy looks surprised as she opens the door wider and her pallid cheeks turn red, “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought your homework,” El replies, holding the books out in front of her sheepishly, a little confused at Lucy’s reaction, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Lucy’s face cracks into a weak smile and El notices the raw redness on the tip of her nose—like Rudolph from that song Dustin taught her last year. “I have this stupid cold and I didn’t want to get people sick before the holidays so I stayed home.” 

“Will you be better before Christmas?” El asks, concerned for her friend’s wellbeing during this colourful and festive time of year that has quickly become one of her favourite things.

“Definitely,” Lucy laughs and holds out her hands for the books, which El delivers to her. “Thanks for bringing this stuff to me. Do you want to,” she pauses for three short sneezes in quick succession, “Do you want to come in?”

“I can’t.” El shakes her head, “Karen is waiting for me in the car.” 

“Oh, okay,” Lucy says with a sniffle, “Well, I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Yes please,” El replies, a grin blooming across her face. “I missed you in school. Especially in Gym.” She moves in to hug her friend but Lucy takes a step back and holds out the arm under which her schoolbooks are not tucked. 

“I’m super gross, remember?” Lucy grimaces before descending into another fit of sneezes. 

\---

“Does Mike know about Lucy?” El ventures once she’s back in the car with Karen and they’re almost halfway home. She keeps her eyes fixed on her knees. 

“Know what, honey?” Karen quickly glances at El out of the corner of her eye, her forehead creased in confusion.

“That Lucy is…less fortunate?” El struggles over the words, a term she learned for the first time at the end of November in Science class, because all homerooms were collecting non-perishable food items that were to be donated for Christmas. El had been confused by the concept at first, unsure how or why there were people living near her who could not afford to buy their own food. Of course, Mike had carefully explained that, sometimes, people couldn't work or, even if they did, it was not enough to keep up with expenses. He explained how lucky he and his family were to have a father with a really good job. That evening, El had begun saving her allowance and was proud to have eventually brought six cans of food in for the drive.

“I think he does,” Karen nods, slightly taken aback by the question, impressed—but not surprised—by El's careful inquiry and concern. 

“Is Will also less fortunate?” This question is quieter, because El is less sure. She wonders, vaguely, if there’s a connection between having a father and having money and it troubles her to think such a thing. She wants to ask if women can be rich and help others all on their own, but saves that question for Nancy. 

“What makes you ask that?” Karen turns the radio down so that she can hear El's softened voice. 

“The Byers have a smaller house,” Eleven shrugs, “And Will always wears Jonathan’s old clothes.” 

“You wear Nancy’s old clothes,” Karen says softly, “That’s a normal thing to do, El.”

“Am I being impolite?” 

“No, sweetheart,” Karen assures her, “You can always ask me questions about anything you’re unsure of. But let’s keep this conversation between us, okay? Joyce and Mrs. Sullivan both work very hard for what they have.”

“Karen?” El’s voice is barely above a whisper and Karen has to strain her ears against the hum of the heater to hear. 

“Yes El?”

“Lucy told me her mom lived with a bad man for a long time." El pauses, attempting to put together her question. After a moment, she purses her lips and continues, "Are there a lot of children who have bad lives?”

“Yes, unfortunately," Karen sighs. She opens her mouth to continue, but El speaks first. 

“Like I did.” El shifts her eyes to look out the window and the trees passing quickly in the darkness. Karen frowns, but nods, her heart breaking in her chest. 

“Can I donate my presents to them this year?” El asks, her breath fogging against the glass. 

“That would be very kind of you,” Karen smiles. 

“I had a good Christmas last year," El says, turning to look at Karen for the first time since their conversation began, "And everyone should get to do that.”

El is deeply concerned when she suddenly notices that there are tears welling up in Karen’s eyes. She feels terrible, her stomach twisting into knots, until Karen explains that El’s kindness is beautiful and that, sometimes, beautiful things make people cry happy tears.

“Like when Mike cried when I came back?”

“Exactly like that, sweetheart.”

\--- 

“Gremlins is NOT a Christmas movie!” Lucy, entirely healthy and rambunctious again, puts her hands on her hips and glares at Dustin as he leans over to pop the tape into the VCR. With only a week left until Christmas, the gang has decided to forego Dungeons and Dragons to run an all-day marathon of their favourite Holiday movies and specials. 

“It is SO a Christmas movie,” Dustin retorts, his lips twisting into a teasing smirk, “It’s set during Christmastime, isn’t it?” Lucy rolls her eyes in exasperation and taps her foot impatiently on the floor. 

“But they’re evil,” El chimes in to agree with her best friend from her spot on the couch snuggled up next to Mike. She’s playing with his messy hair, twirling a dark lock around her finger absently. Ever since she and Mike had become “steady”—as the boys called it—that summer, he was much more open to snuggling and hand-holding in public. Kissing was still something they rarely did—and only if there was no one else there. 

“Are you girls saying you don’t want to watch it?” Dustin asks, crestfallen. Mike, Lucas, and Will—who have all known Dustin far longer than the girls—know that he’s playing up the ham with his sorrowful expression. 

“No,” Lucy quickly capitulates, rolling her eyes and perfectly aware of Dustin’s loveable melodrama, “I definitely do. But I also want you to admit it’s not a Christmas movie.”

“For the love of God.” Lucas rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh, “Will you two just shut up and put the movie on?” Mike, Eleven, and Will laugh. Lucas shakes his head and sinks back into the sofa, stuffing a handful of buttery popcorn into his mouth. He’d only just gotten used to Mike and Eleven being a… _couple_ and now Dustin was starting this weird thing with Lucy. Had everyone in the world gone crazy except for him? He was starting to think so. 

\--- 

On Christmas Eve, Lucy’s mom is working a double-shift at the restaurant in the next town over, so Karen is sure to invite her over for dinner. Yet, feast seems to be a more appropriate term, given the amount of food piled onto the kitchen table, including El's favourite—pumpkin pie. Afterwards, when Nancy and Jonathan, home from New York for the holidays, leave for the Byers’s, Lucy and El climb the stairs to her bedroom and Mike, because all the boys are busy with their families, asks if he can join them. The three of them gather in El’s room‚that was once Nancy’s—Lucy and El sprawled across the mattress and Mike leaning casually against the bed, seated on the floor. 

They talk for what feels like hours, about everything from school gossip to movie reviews until the conversation turns to Lucy’s crush on Dustin—at which point Mike promptly stands up and threatens to leave, smacking his hands over his ears and humming loudly. The girls laugh and move on to making plans for the following summer—camping, swimming, hiking. Eventually Mike nods off, curled up on the floor with one of Eleven’s pillows and a stuffed polar bear. El, a little tired herself lays down and Lucy follows suite. 

“Lucy?” Eleven asks, using her powers to turn the lights in the room off. Lucy, unbothered by her friend’s show of powers since that day at their first sleepover, nestles her head further into one of El's fluffy pink pillows. 

“Yeah El?” Lucy asks, stifling a yawn.

“Are you embarrassed about your house?” El whispers tentatively. It’s a question that’s been bothering her since the day she brought Lucy her homework. There's a long silence and El strains her eyes to see Lucy's face in the darkness. 

“Kind of,” Lucy finally answers, her voice calm. 

“You shouldn’t be," El says firmly, "We’re your friends and friends are always there for you. No matter what.” This, like _friends don't lie_ is an important lesson she learned from the boys who searched for her in her absence because, no matter what, they were her friends. It had been, until then, an unspoken principle in her friendship with Lucy as well; Lucy, who had learned that her name was Eleven and she had weird powers and had demonstrated that none of that mattered—not between friends. 

“Thanks El.” 

In the future, El and Lucy will spend every second Christmas Eve together at a halfway house in Boston, serving food to those in need. Eventually, El will become a speech therapist and Lucy a teacher, both helping children who, like their younger selves, need help. But for now, they’ll sleep until Ms. Sullivan, tired and overworked, drops by to pick up her daughter shortly after midnight. Karen sends her home with an apple pie and a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese. 

\---

Just before Joyce wakes her boys to open presents on Christmas morning, there’s a soft knock on her front door. Puzzled, she creeps to the front window and peeks outside. Standing there is Jim Hopper. Joyce quickly opens the door, a gust of cold wind making her suddenly much more alert.

“Merry Christmas Joyce,” Jim smiles down at her, holding out a small box, neatly wrapped in shiny green paper.

“Jim!” she gasps, “We agreed on no gifts!”

“I know,” Jim nods, a small smirk playing onto his lips, “But I _also_ know you and I’d be willing to bet that there’s something for me under your tree.”

“Well,” Joyce laughs, feeling heat crawl to her cheeks, “You wouldn’t be wrong.” 

“Mom?” Will appears in the hallways behind her, stretching. The chill getting in from the door causes him to shiver in his bare feet and t-shirt. “Oh, hey Chief.” Will gives a small wave, "Merry Christmas."

“I should get going,” Jim mutters to Joyce before casting his eyes back to her younger son, “Merry Christmas, Will.” He turns to leave but a voice calls out for him to wait—and it’s not Joyce. It’s Will. Jim stops in his tracks.

“Can’t the Chief stay for breakfast?” Will asks, the question directed at his mother.

“Oh,” Joyce is taken aback, “Well, I suppose so, but I’m sure he has other things to do and…”

“Mom,” Will gives her a wry smile, “Jonathan and I know already.” And with that, he turns on his heel and walks off to the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving a pair of stunned adults in his wake. Just before he turns into the bathroom he glances back at his mom, “Oh, and Nancy slept over last night, so just make sure you knock before you go in.”

“Jesus,” Jim lets out a long, low whistle, running a hand through his hair, “Smart kid.”

“Merry Christmas, Hop.” Joyce smiles, shaking her head slightly at the thought of how grown up her boys are. “Now, come help me start the eggs.”


	3. O Christmas Tree

_December 1987_

The day that Mike Wheeler turns sixteen in June 1987 is the day on which he begins working towards his driver’s license, mostly because he wants to be able to take El out on real dates without having to rely on his mother or the erratic schedule of Hawkins’s single bus route. After Mike is successful in securing the tiny piece of plastic that allows him greater mobility, he borrows his mother's car almost every Saturday morning to take El to the nearest IHOP for breakfast. Thankfully his manager at the RadioShack, Bob Newby, adores El and generously grants Mike as many free Saturdays as possible—all under the pretence of homework completion, of course. 

This particular Saturday morning, the first one in December, Mike and El are on a mission of the utmost importance. After sharing a generous stack of blueberry waffles and an oversized strawberry milkshake, Mike drives his mother’s car out to the Christmas tree lot at the very eastern edge of Hawkins. He had, late last evening, convinced his parents that he and El wouldn’t need help selecting a tree that year and his mother, busy planning Nancy’s bridal shower, had gladly obliged to lend Mike her keys on the condition of a promise that he’d not scratch the paint. 

As soon as the car is parked, El bounds out of the passenger-side door, rocking on the balls of her feet with excitement. This is not her first trip to the Christmas tree lot, but choosing the perfect tree is one of her favourite holiday traditions and this year feels extra special now that it’s a task for only her and Mike to complete. El wanders the rows and rows of trees, rapt and concentrated as she glides along the snow-covered ground— _like an angel_ , Mike thinks as he trails along behind her. His eyes are for her alone and instead of trees, Mike is focused on the deep blue of El's winter coat and the shimmering of its gold buttons, on the festive Santa hat she wears and the soft waves of brown hair that cascade down her shoulders, over the chunky red scarf she wears with matching mittens. 

El stops suddenly and Mike tries to hide the fact that he was staring as she leans over a particularly grand tree and inspects it carefully. Straightening up, she looks over at Mike and gestures with a mitten-clad hand at her selection. 

“This is the one,” El announces proudly, skipping over to him, her cheeks rosy and her lips slightly chapped. Mike takes one look at the tree and gulps dramatically. 

“El, I don’t know if that’ll fit in our living room.” He’s exaggerating, of course, but El looks slightly put out and is about to carry on her search when Mike tugs at her hand, green glove meeting red mitten. 

“I’m kidding,” he assures her with a grin that grows into a wide smile at the shining look that draws itself over El’s fairy-like features. 

“It’s going to be perfect,” she sighs contentedly, leaning into Mike’s shoulder. Mike feels the words _like you_ gather on his tongue but he swallows them quickly. Opening his mouth to say something not entirely lame, Mike is interrupted as El draws away from him and back to the tree.

“I can help to move it,” El suggests, looking at him emphatically. Mike shakes his head.

“Not like that,” Mike says. He’s secretly dreading trying to move the thing himself because it is _enormous_ and he’s still scrawny and all he ever wants to do is impress El, even though he knows she doesn’t care _at all_ —it’s still a matter of pride. 

El watches Mike with an amused expression as he gathers his strength and attempts to drag the tree across the lot and back towards the car, its lush branches leaving a trail of disturbed snow in their wake. A small smirk etches itself onto her lips because she can tell Mike is really struggling and is too stubborn to admit he needs a hand—from her or from the large man who owns the Christmas tree lot. El shakes her head and rolls her eyes behind Mike’s back, sinking her face deep into the folds of her scarf so that her nose is hidden. She focuses carefully on the tree and, ever so slightly, lifts some of its weight with her mind, just enough for Mike to think he’s gotten a second wind. 

Once they’re back in the car—tree paid for and the large man having helped them secure it to the roof—Mike twists the key in the ignition and allows the engine to warm up. He turns to look at her with arched eyebrows.

“I know what you did,” Mike says bluntly, focusing on her eyes and trying not to cave to their warmth. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” El replies, very consciously fixing her expression into what Dustin has come to call her _puppy dog eyes_. Her voice is muffled from behind her scarf, where she continues to hide everything below her nose. 

“Sure,” Mike scoffs, shifting in his seat so that his body is facing hers. He pulls a tissue out his pocket and hands it to her. El, feigning a pout, emerges from her scarf and wipes away the dried blood under her left nostril. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles, her cheeks turning slightly red at being caught. 

“I love you El,” Mike says, running a hand across the circle of blush on her cheek. He leans forward and gently kisses the tip of her nose, warm and pale unlike his own. "But," Mike continues, pulling back, "You need to be careful."

“I am careful,” El insists, putting her hand on his knee and squeezing softly, "Promise." Mike grins and swiftly reaches out, pulling the Santa hat down over El's eyes. She giggles and blindly swats at him before pulling the hat off entirely and smoothing out her staticky hair. She tosses it at Mike's head and it falls into his lap. "I love you too." 

“Hot chocolate before we head home?” Mike asks with a sheepish smile, handing her hat back. 

“Yes please!” El flicks on the radio, turning up the volume on the mixtape of Christmas carols that Jonathan had made for her. 

_Mission Accomplished._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Bob Newby who will be played by Sean Astin in Season Two! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this! I always love hearing what you have to say. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Val!


End file.
